


rooftop

by orphan_account



Series: help me breathe [16]
Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangs, M/M, great, they have the most salvageable relationship and yet, this was the first full fic they got.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working past things for the greater good.<br/>(A few kisses here and there doesn't hurt anything.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> literally god bless hanjoo  
> we're only a few fics away from what i've had written til now so you'll all have to wait for the next fic after the next one i post!!!! what a tragedy  
> (jk i write quickly and this au is my CHILD i birthed it myself. anyway)  
> kudos + comments are always appreciated!!

“Can I try?”

Hansol looks from Byungjoo to the cigarette in his hand, then back again. “No. You will die and fall off this fucking roof and it’s gonna be my fault.”

“Come on, just once.” Byungjoo whines, squinting when the wind blows his hair into his face.

Hansol sighs. “Am I a bad influence or what,” he mutters to himself as he extends his hand, letting Byungjoo take the cigarette from between his fingers. “Sorry, I’m not lighting another one just for you.”

“That’s fine, I didn’t expect you to. Do I just, you know… go for it?” Byungjoo asks, turning his head to look at Hansol. When Hansol nods, a smile playing across his lips, Byungjoo puts the cigarette between his lips and inhales.

As expected, he does nearly die and fall off that fucking roof, coughing out puffs of smoke. He hands the cigarette back, eyes watering, and Hansol can’t keep himself from grinning.

“There, you tried, just once.” Hansol says, taking a draw off the cigarette himself. It stings a little down his throat, like it usually does. He blows the smoke in Byungjoo’s direction and doesn’t miss Byungjoo purposefully inhaling when he does.

“It smells weird. I’ve smelled cigarette smoke before and it didn’t smell like that.” Byungjoo says, still looking at Hansol.

“They’re menthols. That might be why.” Hansol replies, returning Byungjoo’s even gaze.

“You look really cool like this,” Byungjoo says suddenly, mouth quirking up at the corners. “Smoking on a rooftop, leather jacket, moon high in the sky behind you… I wish I had a good camera.”

Hansol smiles, feeling somewhat shy. “That’s… sweet, Byungjoo. I wish you did too, I’d love for you to take pictures of me.”

A pleasant silence settles around them. Hansol finishes his cigarette off before either of them speaks, and then it’s Byungjoo.

“Those things you said to me, about me… did you mean any of them?”

There are lots and lots of things that Byungjoo could be referring to. Hansol asks, “Which things?”

“About nobody caring if I was there or not, being useless, those sorts of things.” There’s a sadness lurking beneath the surface, and Hansol can see it rising, see it sitting in Byungjoo’s eyes.

Hansol shakes his head. “No. It- It makes me sound like an asshole to say, but I viewed you as a burden, then. I was… in a bad place. You couldn’t have known because I never told you anything, but things were bad for me. They still are.”

“Tell me now,” Byungjoo says, scooting closer. “What’s wrong?”

Hansol lights another cigarette, looking out over the city instead of at Byungjoo. “The things I told you were moreso describing myself. Nobody cares if I’m here or not, and with plenty of good reasons. I’m a dickbag. There’s really no fixing it, but whatever.”

“I don’t think you’re a dickbag,” Byungjoo says after a few long moments of silence, resting his head on Hansol’s shoulder. “You’re cool and mysterious and probably, uh, really- really talented, in some way.” When Hansol remains silent, Byungjoo keeps talking. “I- I was homeless. Sehyuk just… took me off the street and I thought maybe that he was going to do some good for me, but, you know. You couldn’t have known that either, though, because I never told you anything either.”

Byungjoo reaches for Hansol’s hand. Hansol turns his hand palm-up in silent permission, and Byungjoo twines their fingers together. “That made everything you said hurt a lot worse, I think,” Byungjoo says, thumb rubbing one of the scars on the side of Hansol’s fingers. “I don’t want to hold anything against you, though. If I do, you’ll never get better.”

He’s right. Hansol presses his fingertips into the back of Byungjoo’s hand, squeezing tight. “It’s okay,” Hansol says quietly, holding his cigarette between his teeth. “You don’t have to forgive me just for my sake.”

“It’s for both of our sakes,” Byungjoo replies, turning his head slightly so his face is pressed into Hansol’s upper arm. “If I keep holding onto things that happened while I was part of that shitty sect, I’m never going to move on. We can move on together.”

Hansol simply nods, willing to let the subject drop. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket; he ignores it and instead looks at the polish flaking off of Byungjoo’s fingernails.

“What about you?” Byungjoo asks, and then clarifies, “I mean, what did you do before sect life?”

Hansol finishes off his cigarette in nearly one go, holding back a cough for pride’s sake, then flicks the butt off the side of the roof. “I joined when I was sixteen. I got kicked out of my parents’ house because I was dating this boy and they didn’t like it. I told them I broke up with him but I still snuck out and saw him and they just… you know.”

“That sucks. Tell me about him, what was he like?”

“He was cute, nice, he had a great smile. His name was Hyeontae. I think he might have loved his cats more than me.” Hansol sighs, pulling his hand away from Byungjoo’s briefly to wipe it on his pants. Byungjoo is quick to take it back into his, holding tight. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I knew Hyeontae wouldn’t give up his life just for me, so I broke up with him for real. I did the only thing I thought would work for me, which was joining a sect.”

Hansol sighs again, dragging a hand down his face. “The North Sect rejected me, West Sect’s applications were closed, so there was only Shitlord McGee left. He was short on manpower so when I told him I had martial arts training he was all for it.”

“We’re both just burdens on everyone, then, aren’t we?” Byungjoo asks, tone stabbing for lighthearted.

Hansol nods in agreement, close to smiling. “I guess so.” Then, “You’re not a burden on me anymore. I love spending time with you now, I- I don’t know if it’s because I have nothing else to do, or what, but…”

“You’re not a burden on me either,” Byungjoo says quietly, rubbing the back of Hansol’s hand absently. “You never were, I was just… sad because you never paid attention to me. I know why, now, so it’s less awful.”

Hansol takes a breath, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Byungjoo nods. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

Hansol pulls his phone out of his pocket, mostly to check the time (2:37 AM). Once he sees that Sangwon was who texted him earlier, however, he unlocks his phone, curious.

“You still talk to Sangwon?” Byungjoo asks, scooting even closer to see Hansol’s phone screen better.

“More like he still talks to me, I never text him first.” Hansol shrugs, replying to Sangwon’s request for Hansol’s extra ammo with we’ll talk later, I’m busy.

“You consider this busy?” Byungjoo asks, teasing edge to his voice.

“I consider this very busy,” Hansol replies, setting his phone aside and smiling. “I really missed you, Byungjoo,” Hansol continues, growing serious. “I don’t guess we knew each other well enough for me to deserve to miss you, or something like that, but…”

“No, I understand.” Byungjoo says, releasing Hansol’s hand at last in favor of wrapping his arms around Hansol. “I missed you a lot too, even though you were a shitbag and I also threw stuff at you when you tried to visit me before.”

“With good reason,” Hansol adds.

“Yeah, I guess. I still should have tried to… I dunno. But, whatever.”

Hansol puts his arm around Byungjoo’s shoulders, tentative. Byungjoo settles against his side. “Whatever, right. We’re good now.”

Byungjoo nods. “Yeah. We should probably go home. Where are you living, now?”

“Oh, in an apartment on the north end… why?”

“Invite me over sometime,” Byungjoo says, pulling himself from Hansol’s hold and smiling. “You’ve got my number, y’know. I don’t do much, so. Any time.”

Hansol nods, watching as Byungjoo stands and offers a hand. “Nah. I think I’m gonna stay up here a bit longer. Be safe going home, Byungjoo.”

Byungjoo smiles, patting the top of Hansol’s head. “You too, man. It was nice spending time with you like this.”

Hansol turns to watch Byungjoo walk away, smiling and waving back when Byungjoo stops at the door to the roof and waves. He can hear Byungjoo’s footsteps echoing in the stairwell, and then nothing but wind and his own breathing.

This truly is the most bittersweet thing Hansol has ever experienced in his life. It’s so nice to be friends with Byungjoo, finally, but he’s so scared. Scared of himself, mostly.

Hansol hears his phone buzz from beside him. He ignores it and lights another cigarette.

 

“It’s not the nicest place,” Hansol says as he steps into the hallway, flicking the light switch as he passes it. Byungjoo follows close behind once he’s kicked off his shoes, looking around the small apartment as he does so.

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s cozy.” Byungjoo says, heading to the couch and flopping down on it like he lives here. Hansol responds by sitting down on Byungjoo’s stomach nonchalantly. “Ah, no, fatass, get off me!”

Hansol grins, reaching over and patting Byungjoo’s face repeatedly. “Since when can my couch talk? I didn’t sign up for this when I bought it.”

Byungjoo giggles, the most precious sound, and grabs Hansol’s wrist to cease the patting. “Since right now, your couch is possessed. What will you do?”

“I have to call an exorcist right now.” Hansol says sagely, standing up and digging his phone out of his pocket, pretending to dial some numbers and holding up to his ear. “Hello, is this 1-800-EXORCIST? I need some help, right now, my couch is talking.”

There is such pure joy on Byungjoo’s face and it twists Hansol’s chest strangely. Byungjoo takes the phone away from Hansol and puts it to his face, pitching his voice down when he does. “There is no need for assistance! The reign of terror has begun in the Kim household!”

Hansol makes an exaggerated noise of despair, putting a hand to his forehead. “No! What will I do!“

Byungjoo tosses Hansol’s phone to the couch, reaching up and pawing at Hansol’s clothes, most likely trying to emulate some kind of hell creature. Byungjoo stops when he reaches Hansol’s face, fingertips barely touching his skin.

"Oh, I- sorry, sorry,” Byungjoo says, letting his hands fall away from Hansol’s face.

“No, it’s-” Hansol replies, taking Byungjoo’s hands in his and laying Byungjoo’s palms on his cheeks. “It’s fine, you- I won’t-” Hansol struggles for what he wants to say. He remembers dimly that he used to shout at Byungjoo if he got too handsy without permission, and Hansol figures that is the root of this gentle apprehension. He wants Byungjoo to touch him, now.

And Byungjoo does, fingers ghosting across Hansol’s face, catching bumpy scars and old scabs with his fingernails. “You’re- uh, god, you’re very pretty.”

The compliment burns in Hansol’s chest. He smiles and mimics Byungjoo, hands cupping Byungjoo’s cheeks. “You are too. I never told you how beautiful you are.”

Byungjoo turns sheepish, cheeks tinting. “I’m gonna be yelled at for this,” Byungjoo says, letting his hands drop.

“By who?” Hansol asks, feeling a little sore that someone would reprimand Byungjoo for friendship. Then Hansol remembers who exactly Byungjoo is and who exactly he himself is and understands.

Byungjoo is loved and surrounded by people who want to protect him from remnants of the past, and Hansol is just one of those.

“Nevermind,” Hansol says once he notices Byungjoo scraping for something to say. He takes a couple steps back and doesn’t miss the way Byungjoo lifts his hands, like he’s going to stop him. “It’s fine, I know. Your sect members, they’re just… trying to protect you.”

Byungjoo looks sad, standing from his place on the couch. “I don’t need to be protected from you, though… I can take care of myself. We’re friends, Hansol.”

There’s a hint of desperation in Byungjoo’s voice. He seems so eager to reassure Hansol when he’s not even worth the trouble.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to cause any… strain.” Hansol says, running a hand through his hair and looking away from Byungjoo’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Byungjoo is pouting when Hansol looks up. Hansol wants to kiss him. “Don’t say stuff like that. You aren’t straining anything, I was always just… an add-on, anyway.” Byungjoo shrugs. “I don’t feel like I belong in a sect anymore but I have nowhere else to go and I… I don’t want to disappoint.”

Hansol feels almost honored, because he’s certain Byungjoo hasn’t told anyone else this. Byungjoo is too shy. Hansol opens his mouth to speak but realizes he has nothing to say.

“I- I don’t want us to be like this,” Byungjoo says suddenly. “I want us to be friends and I don’t want to worry about what other people think because they- they don’t know you.”

“You don’t either,” Hansol adds quietly.

“But I want to,” Byungjoo whispers.

Hansol nods. “Okay. Okay.”

 

The roof of the apartment in the west side is their spot in the end. Byungjoo still doesn’t know how Hansol got the keys to the roof but he decides that it doesn’t really matter. He gets the feeling that Hansol could talk his way into or out of anything.

Byungjoo still feels very awkward around him, mostly because he constantly feels like he’s doing something wrong. Hansol is still very closed off, despite his promises to open up and let Byungjoo know more about him. It doesn’t really bother Byungjoo, not bad enough to get upset over, but still.

They watch the sunrise, hands clasped together as they’re bathed in colored light, brilliant shades of orange and pink splashed over the horizon.

Byungjoo turns to Hansol to make a remark about how beautiful it is, wonder hot in his chest, but he stops short when he finds that Hansol is watching him, not the sky.

“It’s prettier in your eyes,” Hansol whispers, by way of explanation.

It’s so damn cheesy that Byungjoo can’t help but laugh, covering his mouth with one hand. “Don’t ever say anything like that to me again,” Byungjoo says, joking edge to his voice.

Hansol laughs as well, looking away. There’s a blush on his face. “I know, I don’t know what that was. I’m sorry.”

Byungjoo feels something rising, what he pins down quickly as affection. He wants to kiss Hansol. He weighs pros and cons for a moment, which proves to be a useless venture when Hansol speaks.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes!” Byungjoo replies, a little too eager. He clears his throat and presses a hand to his chest. “Excuse me. I mean, yeah, sure.”

Hansol laughs, endeared, and scoots closer. Byungjoo doesn’t think he’s ever been more nervous in his life, no matter how stupid that seems considering everything else that’s happened in his life.

The kiss is different than any kiss they’ve ever had before. Byungjoo remembers that used to Hansol taking control, rough and  commanding. This is soft, Hansol’s hand coming up to touch Byungjoo’s face gently. Their faces stay near even after Hansol pulls away, and Byungjoo licks his lips, tasting cherry chapstick.

“Uh, can we do that again?” Byungjoo asks, putting up some kind of aloof bravado that Hansol breaks right down with his next kiss, more emphatic.

Byungjoo thinks that surely this sort of stuff only happens in movies. Kissing your ex-something on a rooftop with the sunrise shining on you. It’s just too cliche.

And yet Byungjoo thinks he could sit here all day, just doing this.


End file.
